


Pheromones

by dragonspell



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-16
Updated: 2009-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-20 00:23:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ames White was just minding his own business when his team captures a certain transgenic who's currently having an "issue."  Which he's sharing with everyone in a mile wide radius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pheromones

“Sir.” Ames White sighs at the soft tentative voice cutting through the former silence of the room. Never fucking fails, does it? He can spend the entire day with the dumbfucks he commands, telling them when to sit and when to piss but as soon as he takes some time out for himself, soon as he starts reading through the reports backlogged on his desk, _that_ is when they need him. Thoroughly annoyed, Ames doesn’t answer, just keeps his eyes on the paper in front of him. Let the fucker wait. Let him sweat. If it was important enough, he’d keep trying, right? “…Sir…” It’s even more hesitant than before and Ames finally deigns to glance up. Apparently it can’t wait.

He looks expectantly at the low-level grunt who probably drew the short straw but the guy has apparently been stricken mute by some sudden and horrible curse because he just stands there, staring back and looking ready to shit himself. Ames grits his teeth and slowly counts to ten. Where the fuck is Otto when you need the swarthy motherfucker? “Yes?” he says, just barely containing himself. He really can’t get away with snapping his underlings necks just because he’s irritated beyond belief. Unfair as that seems.

Today has been nothing but a clusterfuck. That renegade piece of trash, X5-452, managed to steal no less than 4 transgenics out from under Ames’s men’s incompetent noses, taking the freaks back to their little freak nation in Terminal City. Fuck it all. He needs to find out how she and her little band of merry mutants manage to sneak out of what should essentially be a barricaded prison. You’d think with the veritable goddamned _army_ they’ve got surrounding the gates of Terminal City, that even a mouse wouldn’t be able to get by without getting its ass blown off yet, somehow, full-grown transgenics are slipping through the lines like they’re fucking made of Swiss cheese.

Eventually, the grunt finally finds his tongue again. Either that or he makes peace with his maker, because he decides to finally continue. “We caught a transgenic, sir.”

Ames blinks. Well, shit. He wonders how that happened. The transgenic must have just walked its freakish self into headquarters and begged to be taken captive because with their track record today, there was just no other way that could have happened. “Alive?” Ames asks, boring holes into the man in front of him.

The underling is starting to sweat. Ames can smell it from here—a faint reek under his TAC vest. “Yes, sir.”

Ames nods. Another one for the boys at the lab, then. Lately he’s been failing all of his promises to get them a working specimen. “Have it shipped out tomorrow,” Ames says, turning back to his report. There’s a new tech development that, while it’s not quite ready for use in the field, shows promise of making their thermal imagers obsolete. Something about embedding the technology right into a pair of goggles. He’s on to the second page before he realizes that he’s still not alone.

If the grunt had looked ready to shit himself before, now he’s just ready to curl up and die. He’s actually fucking _shaking_. Ames puts his tongue in his cheek as he regards the agent like a cat with a mouse. Somehow, he just really doesn’t think this one is going to make it too long. “Anything else?” Ames drawls, slowly. Maybe he’ll get lucky and the man will just suddenly realize that he forgot to leave. Maybe. Ames isn’t betting on it, though.

“There’s…” The man swallows, obviously not wanting to finish that sentence and Ames eyes narrow as he completes it for him.

“…a ‘problem’?” he says softly. The man actually fucking whimpers. Oh mistake, Ames thinks. Never show a predator fear. Just gets them excited. Or horny. Ames buries that last thought down deep where it belongs. There’s a very good reason why he doesn’t fuck his own men, no matter how peckish or hard up he might be feeling. It’s worth jerking off into his own empty hand rather than have to deal with any of that kind of nonsense. “Where’s Otto?” he suddenly cuts in because he’s got the very bad feeling that pulling any answers out of this man is going to be like pulling goddamned teeth and if there’s a problem, Ames wants a full report, pronto.

“He, uh, he sent me…to come get you, sir.”

Just like that Ames is up on his feet, already shoving past the lowly grunt and into the hallway. Otto’s a lot of things but inefficient isn’t one of them. He wouldn’t bug Ames unless it actually meant something. “Where is he?” he growls over his shoulder.

“In the holding bay, sir,” the agent says, running to catch up to Ames but still staying a couple feet out of his reach. Smart man. For once. Ames hangs a hard left and strides to the metal stairs, taking them down two at a time. At the bottom, he swings out into a hallway and navigates the maze of the abandoned building the NSA has converted and set up as their headquarters. When he gets to the steel, triple-bolted door that serves as the entrance to the holding bay—one transgenic getting out is just one too many and Ames has learned that lesson the hard way—he expects to hear some shouting as he punches in the security code. Maybe even some gunfire. He doesn’t hear jack shit. There is, however, a strange something in the air and Ames heart is starting to beat faster in his chest.

The lock beeps and the door swings open and that’s when Ames hears the moaning. _Fuck_. He pulls his gun out of its holster and cocks it as he strides in, ready to take out whatever the fuck is in the room.

There’s no dead bodies, though, no carnage, not even a fucking wound anywhere. Matter of fact, none of the soldiers even have their firearms lifted. They’re too busy staring at one of the cells on the far wall with desperate hungry eyes and most don’t even notice Ames as he barges into their midst. It’s creepy, is what it is. He strides through the motionless men, his shoes clicking on the tile. As he nears the center of the room, though, Ames catches a faint smell wafting on the air. …Something akin to melted chocolate.

With some spice and a hell of a kick.

His senses reel, trying to recover from the sheer overload that’s sparking through them and, for a fleeting moment, he’s struck dumb. He’s able to do nothing but just stand there and gape, his mouth working soundlessly as he tries to deal with the sensation flooding through him. He manages to shake it off, but just barely, and he’s glad that he’s not an ordinary man, that he’s the end product of thousands of years of selective breeding because he suddenly understands why the grunts are held completely in thrall. He also knows that, unordinary man or not, he’s achingly hard, desire curling deep inside of him.

…Well, for fuck’s sake he’s only human.

Now he’s apparently got to find the source of that maddening scent that’s still itching at his nose and put it out of his misery. …Before he does something that he might regret.

He finds Otto near the door that everyone is clustering around, the man’s eyes dazed with lust. Ames gives him a hard shake to try and snap him out of it. He needs Otto to _focus_ , damn it. Otto stares at Ames, coming back to himself for just a few moments, long enough to get out, “Sir, it’s the transgenic. We’re just…barely keeping…the…the men…out…” before he trails off completely and turns back to making cow eyes at the door. Ames stares with him, looking at the door that Otto so obviously wants to be on the other side of.

Now that he thinks about it, though, so does Ames. Badly. And that _pisses_ him off. He stalks to the door and shoves it open to the soundtrack of all of his men—even Otto—groaning in unison. Fucking creepy. But, he has to admit, understandable. The scent’s even stronger now, overwhelming and demanding that he obey what it’s telling him to do. Ames fights it as best as he’s able, glancing around the small enclosed cell, past the gray walls and the hard bed off to the side. He finally lets his eyes trail down to where they want to go and he clutches the door frame to try and hold himself still because he sees tight jeans incasing well-formed legs and all he wants to do is just go over there and spread them, push himself up against that nice little ass.

He mentally smacks himself because _what the fuck kind of thought was that?_ …His honest fucking opinion, he realizes, and it doesn’t look like its going to change any time soon. Steeling himself—he has to know—if he doesn’t do this than no one else of the ineffectual group he leads will do it—he releases the door frame and edges closer, wondering what kind of sick freak Manticore has cooked up this time. Sick puppies weren’t apparently satisfied with just merely weapons of mass destruction and killing, apparently they went for psychological warfare as well.

Ames doesn’t know how most people would be able to ignore the scent that the creature laying writhing on the hard floor is putting off. Hell, _Ames_ finds that he can’t resist it and before he can stop himself, he’s already squatting down beside the transgenic who’s wiggling closer as fast as he—definitely a he—can with his hands bound behind his back. When he finally turns over, Ames feels his breath catch in his throat.

X5-494.

He has to concentrate to regain his breathing and not, say, rip off the boy’s clothes. Well, fuck. X5-494’s always been a pretty little freak, Ames couldn’t deny that, but he’d never inspired this kind of reaction out of an entire squad before, Ames is willing to bet. Which must mean that something extreme’s happened and now the problem’s sitting here in Ames lap. Or rather, regrettably, at his feet. Ames thinks that he’d feel better if the pretty freak was in his lap. …Which is a thought he really doesn’t want to think about but finds that it’s absolutely impossible to put out of his mind. Whatever’s going on with X5-494, it’s something _strong_.

The transgenic’s writhing on the floor, desperately trying to get closer to Ames as he whines and pants and pulls at his bonds. He squirms, his shoulders rolling as he keeps trying to free himself but Ames has the sneaking suspicion it’s not to escape—not with how his hips are bucking upward, all but shoving his crotch at anyone who’d get close enough to touch it. Ames wants to feel disgusted but finds—to his horror—that he can’t. That instead, he’s turned on. _Fuck_. 494’s pretty green eyes are wide, the pupils are blown, and fuck if the boy’s lips aren’t looking better than a pornstar’s, all plush and soft as they drop open to suck in more air. Ames can think of a lot of things he’d like to do to those lips, things like shoving his fingers past them or maybe his cock. Fuck, but he’d love to just set his dick against those inviting looking lips and make them all messy before he finally shoves inside. Disturbingly enough, though, ‘kissing’ is on that list of things that his hindbrain considers acceptable, too, and that is just not good. Ames’s own mouth twists into a scowl. You’d think that he’d never seen a pretty face before.

You’d think.

Ames’s heart is threatening to beat out of his chest, just from watching the pretty freak—smelling him, too—and his breathing is quickly heading into hyperventilation mode but damned if with all his extensive training he can slow either. There’s just nothing he can do to fight this and Ames doesn’t like the reactions that are being drawn out of him unwillingly. Reactions like his cock sitting hard and desperate in his pants, throbbing and begging for attention. Reactions like the fact that Ames can’t even stop himself from reaching out to touch the wanton freak on the floor, gently stroking over the rapidly moving chest just because he has to. At the first touch of Ames fingers, 494 keens, high and thin as his hips frantically hump the air and that’s just it. Just fucking it.

Ames is on him in an instant, devouring that pretty mouth and shoving his hands underneath the transgenic’s shirt, yanking it up away from his jeans to get at warm flesh. It feels like fucking fire, like the goddamned sun, and fuck all if Ames can stop. He can’t even _think_. All he knows is that he wants more, much more, and there’s just way too many layers in the damn way.

X5-494’s already wheeled himself around to spread his legs for Ames like a cheap whore, obviously wanting it bad—wanting Ames cock inside him—and he’s more than cooperative as Ames’s fingers fly to his belt buckle, fumbling with the catch. “Yes, yes, fuck yes, oh fuck, please, yes, _fuck_ ,” 494’s saying, humping against Ames arm, hips grinding.

“Pretty little freak,” Ames growls. He means it. 494’s the hottest damn thing that he’s seen in his life and Ames is about to _have_ him. Ames is going to fuck him like there’s no tomorrow, pump him so full of come like the little bitch wants…

Ames is ripping at the zipper of 494’s jeans when he realizes that there’s someone pulling on his arm. Someone trying to pull him away, stop him from fucking the gorgeous creature in front of him and like _fuck_ that is happening. With a snarl, Ames lashes out, a backhand catching the person beside him and sending them careening into the far wall with a crash, sliding down to the floor. It clears Ames’s vision for one crystal second, long enough for him to see Otto’s stunned but still lust-filled face staring up at him and it’s enough to bring home the gravity of the situation.

He wrenches himself away from 494, his body shuddering with the effort and the freak’s mewl of disappointment, his wordless pleas to come back, are heading straight to Ames’s dick. He’s about to fucking come in his pants. “Fuck!” he swears, shoving himself to his feet and backpedaling. He’s got to get out of here! Whatever the fuck’s going on, it’s pretty fucking apparent that he’s not strong enough to handle it and that is just _unacceptable_. He gasps—big mistake—and chokes on the scent of what he now realizes is pure, unadulterated pheromones begging him to drop back down and fuck 494 into next week like the boy so obviously wants.

Like Hell he is. Ames stops just long enough to haul Otto away from pawing at the still writhing and wanting transgenic—fucking slut anyway—and by strength of will alone pulls them both out of the cell, slamming the door behind them.

Every cell in his body is demanding that he go right back in and shove his dick into the freak but that’s not fucking happening. Ames drags himself to the center of the room, still gagging on pheromones and orders, “Everybody out, NOW!”

No one moves. No one even fucking looks at him, not even Otto. They just stare at the closed door like brainless zombies and Ames snarls, pulling out his gun. They’ll listen one way or the other. He squeezes off a shot into the room, noting with vague satisfaction that the men all jump and turn to look at him. “OUT!” he orders and they sluggishly hop to, churning out of the room in slow motion. Ames glares at them, ignoring his body’s demands to open the door back up and resolutely makes sure that every single one of the agents crawls out of the room. All it takes is one and the menace that is currently X5-494 would be out on the street again and they’d have an even _bigger_ mess to clean up.

He follows after the last man, yanking the holding bay’s door shut behind him. Even with all the steel and space between him and X5-494, though, Ames can still smell him. Now that he’s gotten a whiff, it refuses to leave him and his dick is throbbing in double time. “Fuck,” he swears, punching the wall.

The men stare at him blankly, obviously still caught under the freak’s spell as well and he glowers. “Nobody goes into that room without express permission from me! Under pain of _death_ ,” Ames demands. “Do I make myself _clear_?” Half the men salute while their comrades still gaze slackjawed at the door. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT!” Ames roars and that certainly seems to get through to even the most lowest dominator of moron because in a few minutes, he’s standing outside the door to the holding bay alone.

Fuck but he needs a drink.

* * *

It’s been exactly 9 hours, 37 minutes, and 26 seconds since Ames managed to haul himself away from the door and the lure of the freak behind it into his own office. It’s fucking pathetic but he can’t even deny that he’s been counting. At least not to himself. Anyone else, Ames would lie his ass off to. He knows it’s all in his head, but he can swear that he can actually hear the boy’s heartbeat up here.

Double fucking fuck. This had to be some kind of new tactic by the freaks though fucked if he could actually figure out when little miss martyr had decided to start sacrificing for the greater good. And to send 494, too. Didn’t she have some kind of bond with him or something? But Ames couldn’t deny that the will to fight had been completely zapped out of his men—lost in a haze of overpowering pheromones.

Even he himself isn’t immune, sitting up here pining and brooding, thinking about all the creative positions he’d like to put the lovely transgenic into. Full on fantasizing about how the boy’s eyes would be wide and blown as Ames fucked into him, how he’d be so desperate and so willing, meeting Ames for each thrust, arms wrapping around Ames’s neck and clenching down. How he’d—FUCK.

Ames just needs to go down and put a bullet in the freak’s brain.

Except that he knows that if he went into that room, there would a large improbability—a very large improbability—of any actual gunshots being fired. Ames would be too busy fucking 494 into the floor. And the boy would want it, wouldn’t he? He’d be—Ames stands with a snarl, sending his office chair flying.

Fine. Fine, he will. Apparently this isn’t going to wear off and really, what is the harm in going down and putting his cock in the freak like the boy so desperately wants? He knows that he’s not thinking this through but GODDAMN it, he can’t actually fucking think! Maybe if he has a chance to fuck this out of his system, he’ll regain the use of his own damn body.

Ames has tried jerking off. Hadn’t fucking worked. As in, he hadn’t been _able_. All it’d done is make him even more desperate and crave the boy even more. Whatever the fuck is wrong with 494, it’s major, but Ames just can’t take it anymore.

Without really thinking about it, Ames is grabbing the nearly forgotten bottle of lotion out of the bottom drawer of his desk—a gift from his late wife—and walking out the damn door. He nearly kills himself on the stairs, trying to take them too fast but he just can’t make himself slow down. Not now, when he’s finally thrown his training and morals and _standards_ out the damn window and given in.

He’s in a full-on run by the time he hits the holding bay and with a flash of rage, he sees that he’s not the first one to cave. At least 15 men are milling around the door though none of them have been stupid enough to open it yet. Yet. With a roar that is two thirds anger and, irritatingly, one third jealousy, he tells them to beat it and they scatter. Then, with no one looking, he punches in the code, enters the room, and closes the door again, locking it. Just to make sure, he overrides the default combination as well, changing it to a whole new set of numbers.

No one’s going to disturb him this time.

The scent, if anything, has grown stronger and sharper though Ames doesn’t know how that’s actually possible. All he knows is that it’s physically painful to walk, he’s so damn desperate to get off. The stench is overpowering, completely overtaking his mind even though it really doesn't need to at this point. It’s absolute torture to stride over to the only occupied cell, even worse when he momentarily forgets the combination in his lust. Snarling, he randomly pushes buttons before a desperate stab of clarity pierces through and he manages the correct number.

X5-494 is right where he left him hours before, still hard and writhing and looking just downright fuckable on the floor. The freak turns to greet him, green eyes dilated to damn near blackness and a sickeningly hopeful look on his face. He’s covered with sweat and looks just about out of his mind. His shirt’s still rucked up, his belt undone and Ames takes a deep breath of the pheromone double whammy before dropping down to his knees beside him. He shoves 494’s legs apart—not that it’s that hard to do so considering the boy’s already spreading like a good little bitch. Out of his mind and beyond words, the transgenic’s moaning and mewling like a cat in heat.

It’s probably what this is, Ames thinks savagely, a heat cycle. Ames wouldn’t put it past the sick fucks at Manticore to think this would ever be a good idea—but he really doesn’t fucking care. He rips the boy’s shirt right in two, yanking it off of him in strips to bare his naked flesh and _God_ but a mutant genetic freak had no right to look this damn delicious. Ames finally manages to jerk open the boy’s jeans, too—only 9 hours and 40 minutes later than he should have give or take a few seconds—freeing 494’s cock and pulling the jeans down his legs. He discards the useless pieces of cloth behind him and starts pulling at his own clothes, all too aware of how 494 is grinding against him, rubbing his entire body against Ames’s. Ames loses some of the buttons on his shirt in his haste but _he doesn’t fucking care_ and it takes entirely too long before he’s finally—FINALLY—making full skin-to-skin contact with all those pale, freckled acres.

Ames can’t help himself—he moulds his mouth to the boy’s, thrusting his tongue in and Christ but the freak tastes nice. He tastes like nothing and nobody Ames has ever had the pleasure of knowing and he just can’t get enough. The boy is gasping and sobbing underneath him, hips rising and bumping Ames cock. Ames finally breaks away, panting for breath before he snarls. “I’m going to fuck you.” 494 wails—fucking _wails_ —and tries to capture Ames mouth again. Before Ames lets him, though, he bites out, “And afterward, I’m going to shoot your pretty little ass.”

494 seems just fine with that plan and Ames figures who is he to disagree? So he fumbles for the bottle of lotion he’d nearly forgotten, glopping more than a dab onto his fingers and shoving it into the boy. The freak twists and sobs, nearly shrieking in his desperation and yeah, that’s about just as much foreplay as Ames can take. Just giving in completely, Ames pulls his fingers out and plunges his cock in, grunting as he shoves it past the hard ring of muscle that's not nearly as relaxed as it should be.

Oh _sweet Christ_. Ames has never been a religious man—kind of hard when he runs in the circles that he does—but he thinks he might have just found God. If he hasn’t, then he could still die happy because this is sheer damn perfection. He’d _needed_ this in his life. The boy’s tight and hot around Ames, almost too hot, scorching, but it still feels amazing. More than amazing. It feels like he hasn’t fucked in 40 years and he’s getting his first piece of tail.

It’s perfect and he needs to make sure that he never leaves again.

Following pure base instinct, Ames thrusts, really just trying to get deeper inside the body underneath him and 494 seems to be on board with that plan. He’s rocking up into Ames with all the leverage he can muster, apparently just as desperate to have Ames’s cock as Ames is to give it to him. The boy’s stuck in a never-ending keening sob now and Ames shoves his tongue down his throat half to shut him up and half because he just can’t help himself, wanting some more of that inhumanly sweet taste.

Ames has never had a sweet tooth but he thinks he just might have found one. Or at least his newest addiction.

He strains with 494, legs churning against the floor for purchase as he thrusts over and over into the boy’s sweet body. 494, the slut, is arching his back and trying to get Ames to hit the right angle. Not that Ames thinks that there’s actually a wrong angle at the moment. They’re both panting out of control, rutting against each other in a way that too rough and desperate to be all pleasure but they can’t slow down, can’t stop. The lotion’s starting to chafe but Ames can’t care; he’s too focused on the rhythmic act of pure, simple fucking.

Going off like a triggered siren, screaming his lungs out, the boy clenches around Ames cock and spurts between their two bodies, coming messily all over the both of them. He clenches his ass down tight on Ames cock and, with his own shout, Ames comes too, pumping into the boy. It feels as if his brain is coming out his dick, sapping all of his energy with it and it’s hours (minutes) before he manages to finally stop. He collapses in a heap on top of 494 who’s still panting, chest rising up and down, his eyes glazed over.

Sated and exhausted, Ames lets himself check out for a minute or two as well, just letting himself drift in the sea of satisfaction. The scent’s still there—damn it—but fainter now, and Ames distractedly thinks he might be on to something. Who knew that all it would take would be just a little fucking? 494’s slurring and fucked-out voice, though brings him back to the here and now.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you…” 494 gets out even though he doesn’t move from his slump against the floor.

Ames raises an eyebrow, a little bit surprised at the threat coming from a guy who, just a little while ago, had been just about out of his damn mind with the need to be fucked. A guy who now has Ames’s come leaking out of his ass and who’d been begging to have it, too. “You’re not going to get the chance,” Ames taunts back, even though his heart’s not in it—hard to be riled up about anything after coming that hard.

494 takes the option to be calm away from him, though, when he rolls them both, coming out on top and bashing Ames’s skull with a vicious headbutt. Ames grunts as his vision goes screwy for a moment, trying to shake the world back into order. The transgenic’s trying to scramble to his feet but Ames doesn’t let him get the chance, swinging a punch at the mutant’s face that, while maybe swinging wide, still clips the fucker and sends him tumbling to the floor.

“You piece of _shit_ ,” Ames snarls, getting to his own feet and wiping at his mouth and forehead. “How _dare_ you…” He reaches for his gun only to realize, chagrined, that he left it back in the office during his haste to give in to his baser instincts. Instead, he kicks savagely at the creature on the floor, grunting in satisfaction when he connects.

The mutant rolls with the blow, coming to a rest on his back a few feet away, doubling over in pain and Ames strides over to him, ready to deliver another kick. 494 stares up at him and for some, inexplicable reason, Ames stops the kick mid-swing because he’s too busy getting lost in the green depths. “Fuck…” he mutters. It’s not his imagination. The driving need that he’d thought he’d fucked out of his system is right back in force, demanding that he drop to his knees again and give the piece of trash what for one more time.

Apparently 494’s feeling it, too, and not too happy about it. He looks like he swallowed an entire fucking lemon but fuck if the pursed lips don’t just make Ames want him more. Instead of hitting him, Ames reaches down to grab the boy’s arm and haul him up to his feet. Fuck, yeah. He needs to show this insolent little shit his place again. Ames’s body is _screaming_ for it.

He shoves the transgenic face first against the wall, kicking the boy’s feet apart and crowds in behind him, shoving him against the hard cement and holding him there. He buries his nose in the mutant’s hair, breathing deep and hating himself for it. “All your fucking fault,” Ames mutters. He should have shot the bastard five times over by now. But no, here he is, smelling the damn freak’s _hair_.

“ _My_ fault?” 494 shouts. “What kind of fucked up logic is that, you asshole? You people and your damn chemical warfare are the ones that _did_ this to me—” he cuts off into a shriek as Ames skips any kind of foreplay and just thrusts into him again. The boy’s ass is still slick and open from the last time, and before long, the transgenic’s moaning like a damn whore again, eager and willing and not fighting back in the slightest. Just the way Ames likes him.

The boy is gorgeous gasping against the wall, his fingers trying to dig into the cement block as he’s stretched around Ames’s cock. Ames will give him that much at least. He may be a genetic mistake but by God is he nice to look at. Ames leans in, able to think a little more clearly during this whole debacle now that he’s finally managed to take the edge off. “Gonna fuck you again, you pretty freak.” And again and again and again… “Fuck you until whatever you’ve done to me is out of my damn system and then I’m going to kill you myself. How does that sound?”

Ames thrusts particularly hard, drawing a moan out of 494 but, being the stubborn bastard that he is, 494 actually manages to scrape together a retort. “Shut the Hell up and fuck me, douchebag.” As stinging replies go, it isn’t much but Ames figures he can’t really expect poetry when he banging the boy against a wall. Plus, it sounds like a fantastic idea. He slams into the transgenic’s body—which is willing no matter what comes out of his mouth—over and over until—God yes—he’s coming again in the boy’s tight ass.

With a choked cry that just as much futile rage as it is pleasure, 494 coats the wall and Ames smirks to himself. Even though it’s just a freak, he likes having the validation of his skills plain as day—one of the benefits of bedding a male instead of a female, too, he supposes. While he’s busy gloating to himself, though, Ames almost misses the moment when 494 whirls on him.

The boy tries to get him with a kick to Ames's left side but Ames manages to block in time and counters by grabbing and throwing the freak into the opposite wall. Without anything to stop himself with, the transgenic smashes into the cement, just barely turning soon enough to have his shoulder hit the hard surface instead of his face. Must be the cat in him, Ames thinks inanely. Dazed, the boy slides down to land in a heap on the floor and Ames debates to himself whether to kill the freak now with his bare hands or to wait until he could grab his gun from the office, for that oh, so satisfying kick back.

Much to his horror, though, as he debates the pros and cons of either option he finds that the smell that X5-494 is putting out appears to not be abating anytime soon. In fact, it’s still as strong as ever and as it swells in the enclosed space of the cell, Ames finds himself more and more wanting to haul the transgenic off to his bedroom. Which is disturbing in and of itself, never mind that fact that Ames’s come twice already in a short amount of time that in a man his age was admirable and not at all usual.

Apparently this was going to take longer than he thought.

With a snarl, he turns away from the barely conscious transgenic and grabs his clothes on the way out of the cell. Anything to put some distance between him and the suddenly, inexplicably desirable test tube experiment.

* * *

To Ames’s dismay, his lapse of judgment appears to have fixed the problem for everybody in the immediate area except for himself. He’s gone a day now, avoiding the holding bay and all he can think about for every waking minute is just how tight 494 felt around his cock. He can hear the broken whimpers of the boy as loud and as clear as if they were just being made. It’s enough to drive a man insane.

Nobody else is bothered, though. Otto looks a little embarrassed and, frankly, so do some of the other agents, but nobody’s going down to stare longingly at the door anymore. No one except for Ames, that is.

He wants to scream and tear out his hair, except that wouldn’t really accomplish anything. He also wouldn’t mind killing something but he’s apparently in-fucking-capable of killing the one transgenic he has a hold of. Every time he’s thought about doing so, it’s been like his mind doesn’t even want to consider it and slides away from the subject mid-fantasy with a sickening feeling that feels disturbingly like sorrow.

He wants to know what the fuck is wrong with him, but he’s got a strong suspicion it has less to do with him and more to do with Manticore’s pretty little freak and his fucked up genes. Ames is going to kill him. Okay, scratch that, there’s that little pang in his chest again.

Otto wants to know if and when they’re shipping out X5-494 but Ames hasn’t given him a straight answer yet. Not until he knows what’s wrong with him and how to fix it. At this moment, he has no clue if sending the X5 away will cure him because, hell, a night spent at Ames's house didn’t help. He just kept fantasizing how all that pale skin would look against his sheets. Didn’t exactly lead to a good night’s sleep.

At least he’s able to masturbate again. Not that it’s actually helping. His dick seems to be the damn Energizer Bunny lately with how fucking eager it is. He got himself off last night at home, thinking it would get rid of the residual pheromones the freak put in Ames’s body and let him get some sleep. Yeah fucking right. He’s already gotten himself off twice today and it’s not even 10 in the morning yet. _Christ_.

And let's not talk about the fact that Ames stopped off at a random non-descript corner store this morning and couldn’t stop himself from making an extremely necessary purchase. In bulk even as he was mentally beating himself over the head. Plus there was the store he’d stopped by after…

He hadn’t bought anything there but God had he wanted to.

Ames groans and tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. He’s just going to have to kill himself. That’s the only damn recourse he can think off. Or maybe just chopping off his dick would do. Except there’s the fact that the Conclave wouldn’t be too happy with him for mutilating his most important asset. Fuck. Not like they actually have plans to ever let him use it again. Not after the fiasco with Wendy. He’s lucky that they even allowed him to have her after what his father had done, betraying the entire Conclave like that. They think there’s something wrong with him too, now. They won’t come out and say it but he knows what they’re thinking. Even after he proved himself by killing Wendy. And hadn’t _that_ just been a bitch.

Ames had swallowed it down in the name of duty but carrying out the act had inspired feelings in him that he’d rather just never think about again. Fuck. He’s a sentimentalist. How pathetic is that?

Not nearly as pathetic as the fact that his cock is starting to harden in his pants. For fuck’s sake. He’s had just about enough of this shit.

Fucking the freak’s fine little ass had helped last time, right? If only temporarily. Maybe that’s all he needs to do—just fuck 494 until he damn well ODs on the pretty bitch. His cock seems more than onboard with that plan but Ames isn’t surprised. It’s been demanding to pump 494 full of more come ever since he left him the last time.

For his own damn sanity, Ames is going to do this. He’s going to see exactly what X5-494 looks like in every possible position being fucked within an inch of his life. Then, when Ames is finally done with him, when the freak’s all used up like the piece of trash he is, _then_ Ames will kill him.

Ames rubs his chest again and curses. This is more than annoying now. It’s getting downright rage-inspiring. The sooner he gets this chemical cocktail that the transgenic infected him with out of his system, the better.

But like Hell he was going to be debasing himself in front of his men. No, they might not be the sharpest tools in the shed, but he’s pretty sure if he spends as much time in 494’s cell as he’s planning on, they’d figure out his game without much help. Which means that the transgenic has to be moved. Quietly.

Well, as quietly as possible at any rate.

Ames passes Otto in the hall and he grabs the man’s arm, hauling him to a full stop. Otto stares at him, shocked that Ames is touching him but doesn’t protest and when Ames leans in, Otto mirrors the motion.

“Get a van ready,” Ames says. “We’re moving the transgenic.”

“We’re shipping him out?” Otto asks like it makes a difference and Ames grits his teeth.

“No, we’re just moving him. He’s a liability to have at headquarters but we’re not handing him over just yet.” Not until Ames figures out what’s wrong with himself first. Otto, though, seems to think he understands because he’s giving Ames a knowing look and nodding his head. “Just get the van,” Ames bites out.

“Yes, sir.” Otto scurries down the hall while Ames takes the elevator down to the parking garage. He has a purchase he needs to retrieve from the trunk.

Ames still can’t believe he’s doing this—squirreling off with a transgenic to satisfy his own depraved urges—Christ, you’d think he’d find somebody human at least—but that’s not going to stop him. He steels himself, retrieving the bag from the trunk and heading to where Otto is waiting with the van.

Otto’s standing by the closed back doors, regarding it curiously and Ames walks up. “He in there?” he asks and Otto nods. “He awake?”

“I gave him a sedative.”

“Should have just tasered him,” Ames grumbles, heading to the front of the van. What was the use in wasting medical supplies on lab equipment, really?

Otto ignores the comment, though, deciding to follow up on something else. “Should I get you an escort?” he asks and yeah, while that would be a good idea in theory, but it would not be nearly so nice now.

“No, the less people that know where he is, the better,” Ames says. “Until we figure out if we can keep him contained, I don’t want him infecting anyone else.” Otto nods but Ames can still see the doubt in his eyes. He’s not going to let it bother him at this point, however, since he’s already come this far so he opens the door to the van and slides behind the steering wheel. “I’ll be back later,” Ames states, not wanting to commit to a time. Who knew how long it would be until he finally managed to fuck X5-494 out of his system?

“Understood, sir.” Ames had known there was a reason he’d kept Otto around all these years.

“Good man.” He puts the van into gear and drives off, the unconscious X5-494 tied up in the back.

* * *

The building isn’t much to look at. It, like many others in the city, was condemned years ago and has been sitting empty ever since. It is, however, anonymous and secured—the entire building had been converted into a mini-storage facility completely off the books about 6 months ago and to Ames knowledge, no one except him knew about it. It was supposed to only be a back up to a back up—a desperate last chance to escape—and Ames figured this was as good a time as any to use it.

Unfortunately, now that he’s safely parked in the building, secreted away with the object of his not quite affections, he’s faced with the fact that the building may be secured but the thing meant to be kept inside it is not. He has to move X5-494 and Ames isn’t quite confident he can trust himself.

His track record involving the transgenic is less than stellar even without the suped-up cocktail raging its way through the boy’s system. After all, Ames is well aware that this particular lab mistake was supposed to have died months ago. Somehow, though, his luck had held up right until the point he’d end up back in Ames’s lap. Transgenics tend to be a wily breed if they don’t trust you and Ames knows that X5-494 is one of the worst of the bunch because he doesn’t trust anyone. Not only that, but the boy has a quick mind and an even faster mouth, usually able to get himself out of most situations.

The moment that Ames had first seen the boy in the cage he’d placed him after capturing him the first time, he’d had the same response as he did to 452. Definitely more pretty than in his picture. He’d had a vague desire to push the boy to his knees and let him get his last meal from Ames cock but that had been as far as it went. Just a general ‘gee, that body’s kind of hot, I think I’d like to fuck it’ moment. Nothing at all like what he's experiencing now.

Even just standing outside the van with X5-494 safely slumbering inside, Ames is breaking out in a sweat. His entire body is starting to heat with desire and his cock is tenting his pants. Fuck but he needs to get over this.

There’s a room in the building that’s absolutely perfect for what Ames has in mind but he’s not sure if he’s actually going to be able to make it there with the transgenic without banging the boy on the floor first. Which would undoubtedly wake the freak up (hopefully) and then Ames would be left with a pissed off wildcat on the loose.

Judging by 494’s reactions so far, in the middle of getting fucked, he’s perfectly willing but afterward, he reverts to his old, irritating self. Kind of like how after he comes, Ames returns to his previous sane state.

However, him standing out here agonizing of the maybes isn’t going to get the job done any faster and God help him if he takes too long and the freak wakes up in the middle of it. So Ames takes a deep breath of unpolluted air and yanks open the van’s back doors.

X5-494 is laying in a ball on the floor, arms still twisted behind his back, ankles zip-tied and, oh yeah, he’s completely naked except for a thin sheet. Ames swallows back a moan, especially since that maddening smell that the transgenic’s been giving off for days is starting to waft out, no longer buffered by the steel of the vehicle. Ames’s skin is crawling, his body demanding that he jump into the van, break the zip-tie around the boy’s legs and thrust into him. This does not bode well.

Gritting his teeth, Ames reaches into the vehicle and grabs a hold of the X5’s legs, using them to drag 494 to him. The sheet is riding up, exposing more and more of the boy’s unnaturally hairless body—amazing what they can cook up in a lab when they’re fucking with genetics—and Ames is eying each new inch of skin hungrily. He wants to lick 494’s entire damn body, start at the feet and head right on up until he covers every little bit and _God_ what the fuck is wrong with him? You’d think he’d never had sex before. Ames grimaces and is just glad that 494’s new humble abode is on this floor so they’re not going to have to spend any time in an elevator. Ames doesn’t want to think about how badly he’d break in such an enclosed space.

The transgenic moans weakly, turning over towards Ames instinctually, his hips already thrusting sleepily and Ames knows he doesn’t have much time at all. He braces himself and yanks the unresisting body out the rest of the way, gathering it into his arms. 494 nuzzles into his chest and Ames feels his cock start to throb. Double fuck. The boy smells even better up close and all the touching is definitely not helping matters. 494 moans again, this time with a needy note tacked onto the end and Ames starts running for the room.

Even though the transgenic is being jostled back and forth as Ames carries him, he’s still apparently too out of it to come around and Ames thanks whatever powers are out there for small favors. The room he wants is the third one on the right and he bursts into it, not wanting to wait any longer. He dumps 494 on the old bed that’s in the room and dashes back to the door, slamming it shut. He waits impatiently for it to beep an affirmation before he finally lets himself give in and pounces on the oh so pretty freak.

He tongues underneath 494’s jaw, finally getting a taste of that delectable skin and it’s even better than he’d thought it would be. Christ, it’s _divine_. He humps the transgenic’s unresisting body frantically, soaking his own underwear in his excitement and just generally acting like he’s 14 all over again. Ames pants, trying to regain some of his lost dignity, but finds that it’s impossible. He flips 494 over and paws at the handcuffs, twisting them around to bare the lock while he digs in his pocket for the master key. He groans in satisfaction when he finally finds it, fumbling with it to try and get it to the handcuffs.

How he manages to actually get the restraints off considering how bumbling he currently is, Ames doesn’t have a damn clue all he knows is that his dick jumps in joy when he hears the faint snick of them unlocking. He rips the cuffs off, tossing them to a corner of the room and shoves 494’s newly freed wrists above his head.

There’s a reason why he picked this room, this place. It comes ‘pre-furnished.’ Ames doesn’t know exactly why a few of the rooms in the building contain beds equipped with shackles, he just knows that he’s going to make good use of them. He clamps the iron restraints around 494’s wrists, tethering him to the wall. Good enough.

With his prisoner finally secure, Ames draws back just far enough to shuck off his clothes, discarding them over his shoulder and not particularly caring where they land. Beneath him, 494’s starting to come around, shifting uneasily as he feels Ames moving on top of him and no doubt responding to the same primal need that's spurring Ames along. The only upside to any of this Ames thinks—besides the admittedly amazing orgasms—is the fact that the transgenic is feeling the same thing as Ames.

Sure enough, as soon as he’s fully awake, 494’s arching like a cat in heat, gasping out his arousal and offering himself to the first tom that happens along. Ames runs a proprietary hand down the freak’s back, watching as the gorgeous body shakes with the motion. The transgenic twists underneath Ames, bucking up against him and trying to shove him off. Ames clamps down, trying to force the irritating freak still because like Hell is he getting off before he’s good and ready, before he realizes that 494’s just trying to get his knees underneath him.

Good idea. “There’s a good little slut,” Ames purrs, grabbing the bottle of lube he’d previously stashed in his coat pocket.

“Shut the fuck up,” 494 hisses. “Fuck…just _do_ it.”

Ames grins because, again, that sounds like a damn fine idea, except he just can’t help wanting to nettle the transgenic again, remind him exactly where he is and what’s going to happen. “What’s the matter?” he asks, all fake concern, “you don’t like it when I talk to you? Or you just don’t like it when I talk to you when I’m fucking you?”

494 shoves backwards as much as he’s able in his restraints, his body trembling. “You’re not fucking me yet, jackass.”

The freak had a point. Ames slathers some lube onto his cock and starts the slow push in. 494 grunts and hisses, partly in pleasure but Ames is willing to bet partly in pain as well. He’s a big boy, even if he does say so himself, and he hopes that 494’s feeling every solid inch of him. He’s got to be, the way he’s clenching so sweetly around Ames cock. Ames could just about come from this, the first slide, because it feels so damn good.

494 whines, low in his throat, the noise wrapped in need and lust and Ames dick throbs in sympathy. He bottoms out a few seconds later, 494 taking him all the way to the base and there were some definite benefits to transgenics being so damn warm. Ames bites back a moan and starts to thrust, driving his cock in an out of the tight, hot hole. He’s been wound up far too long, missing this in a deeply disturbing way for far too long. Underneath him, 494 is desperately trying to fuck back, to get Ames to hit that angle that makes him see stars, trying to get himself off. Unfortunately for the freak, though, the sight of him writhing on Ames cock combined with the heat and tightness of his body is all it takes to send Ames over the edge. Pathetically enough.

Ames bends over 494’s warm body, plunging in deep as he empties himself and the transgenic yowls in disappointment. A few more thrusts and Ames is finished, collapsing on top of 494 who’s frantically jerking on his chains. “You goddamned cocksucker,” 494’s saying viciously, “get the fuck off me and let me come! Fuck!”

Coming to, Ames chuckles and pushes himself up, enjoying the whines of frustration as he withdraws from 494’s body. “What’s the matter, freak?” Ames asks, all sarcastic kindness. “Did you want something?”

“Fuck!” 494 swears again, giving one last long pull on his restraints and Ames is secretly impressed at how well the iron is standing up to the transgenic’s desperation. Apparently somebody in the past had designed this room even better than Ames had thought.

Ames laughs again, loving having his mind clear for once while the seductive freak causing all of his problems lately thrashes around uselessly. It’s a damn good feeling. “Did you want to come?” Ames teases. He strokes a hand down over 494’s hip just to see the reaction and he’s got to say, he’s not disappointed.

494 whines high and loud and leans into Ames touch. He’s panting, swaying, and trying to use every damn trick in the book to tempt Ames into doing what he wants. Luckily enough though, Ames isn’t currently being motivated by his dick (okay so not entirely), so he has a chance to enjoy this. Ames strokes the smooth skin again, listening to the boy keen. This is almost sweet enough to make him want to give in, though. Almost. Ames smirks. “How about you ask me nicely and I’ll think about it?”

“Fuck you,” 494 gasps out.

Ames gives him a hard swat on the ass for the curse, making the transgenic yelp and jump. “That wasn’t very nice,” Ames says. He leans over to get a good look at the boy’s lust-filled face, privately wondering if the techs at Manticore knew how well they were doing when they tampered with the kid’s genes. His half-lidded eyes with those sinfully long lashes are so dark they’re almost black, and his pretty mouth is open, his lips glistening wetly each time he slides his tongue over them. “Mmm,” Ames murmurs in appreciation, reaching out to touch that plump lower lip. “Tell you what, how about I leave you here a while to think about it?”

494’s glazed over eyes dart to Ames’s face helplessly and Ames gives him a few moments to think it over. One, two—494 licks his tongue out at Ames finger, tasting it before he swallows the whole thing. Ames should have been expecting it with those lips but somehow he’s still surprised at how absolutely talented the transgenic’s mouth appears to be. The freak’s sucking on Ames’s finger like he would a cock and Ames makes a mental note to try that out sometime, wondering if he’d be as amendable to having Ames dick in his mouth and he is to having it in his ass.

Ames pushes his finger in more, swirling it along in the slick heat while 494 works his tongue around it. “Yeah…” Ames breathes because fuck does that feel good. His cock’s even starting to twitch all over again.

At the whispered affirmation, 494 whimpers and sucks harder, apparently spurred on by a little bit of appreciation for his efforts. Ames’s finger might as well be water in the desert for how well the boy is sucking it down. The transgenic moans and spreads his legs just a little wider and Ames feels his control snap. With a muttered “Fuck yeah…” he realigns himself with 494’s hips and shoves inside again. It’s just as good as it was the first time, all welcoming hot heat and 494 whines, pushing back against Ames. The boy chokes a little on Ames finger but recovers, slicking it with more spit and wrapping his lips around the digit.

Ames shudders as his hips start to thrust, pleasure ratcheting through his formerly sated body and waking it back up. He moves his finger in time with the rhythm he’s setting behind 494 and the transgenic’s body begins to tremble. Clenching his jaw, Ames changes the angle of his thrusts a little more downward and 494 chokes on a sob while he soaks the sheet underneath him. His orgasm clenches his ass tight around Ames’s cock and Ames growls at the new sensation, his thrusts speeding up. 494 mewls and collapses underneath Ames, all the fight leaving his body as Ames plunges in and out. He twitches each time Ames slides over his prostate, though, with little broken whimpers to mark every hit.

Ames bends over 494’s back, still keeping his finger inside the boy’s mouth, and presses a wet kiss to 494’s shoulder. The transgenic whines at that, too, and Ames licks his way over to the boy’s neck, latching onto the sensitive skin behind his ear. 494 pants beneath him, starting to squirm and with a grunt, Ames finally comes again.

His orgasm wrenches out of him—a man his age should _not_ be coming this many times—and Ames gives a few more reactionary jerks before he groans and pulls out again. He sits back on his heels, dazed and sated as he watches his own come slowly leak out of 494’s ass. Christ, he’s a sick fuck, Ames thinks. How far the mighty have fallen for him to be here wasting his sperm on a genetic freak and a male one at that. At least there’s no chance of a child, so he supposes he should be glad for that at least. If he was going to lose his damn mind, at least let it be with someone that would give as few repercussions as possible.

494’s still panting shallowly, his face mashed against the sheets, but his breath catches in his throat when Ames reaches out to finger his stretched and leaking hole. “Bastard,” 494 hisses, jerking to the left and rolling over onto his back to glare at Ames. With his hands shackled above his head, he can’t exactly punch Ames but he still has full range of his legs. Taking that into consideration, Ames quickly pins the disagreeable freak to the bed.

“Get the fuck off me!” 494 yells, twisting underneath Ames. “Stop touching me!”

Ames smirks, effortlessly riding out the transgenic’s struggles. “Funny. You were saying something different just a few minutes ago.”

After one final, desperate buck upwards, 494 stills. “I’m going to kill you, you motherfucker,” he growls.

“I think you might have that backwards,” Ames taunts. The transgenic’s eyes narrow and Ames does have to admit that the freak is pretty when he’s angry. Maybe not as pretty as when he’s begging to be filled but still—the lab geeks over at Manticore sure knew what they were doing when they built him. Almost a shame to waste such good looks on a genetic mistake. “Because I’m pretty sure you can’t do much of anything right now.” Still keeping 494 pinned with his body, Ames reaches a hand down between the transgenic’s legs and 494 freezes in shock when Ames breaches him with the same finger he’d been so eagerly sucking on just a few minutes before. Ames swirls his finger inside the boy, playing with his own come and loving the look of violation dawning across 494’s face.

494 bucks again, nearly shaking Ames loose as he struggles fiercely underneath him. “Get out of me!” the transgenic shouts, twisting the sheets beneath him as he squirms.

Ames fucks 494 with his fingers, just enough to get his point across and with a final muffled scream of helpless rage, the transgenic falls back against the bed. Ames regards him coolly, not bothered in the slightest by 494’s murderous glare. “You listen here, freak,” Ames says, slow and calm, “it’s your fault we’re even here so you’re going to be a cooperative little bitch, do I make myself clear? Do you think I want to be here? Do you think I want to be debasing myself this way? So for as long as this takes, you’re just going to lie there and spread for me!” He punctuates the last word with a vicious stab at 494’s prostate that has the boy’s hips leaping off the bed. “ _Are we clear?_ ”

494 swallows hard, getting himself back under control. “You’re such a jackass,” he says, kicking a leg uselessly.

“As long as we have an understanding,” Ames states.

“What understanding, you rapist?” 494 shouts at the ceiling. “You have me held prisoner, chained to a damn wall so you can fuck me easier and now you want me to be a willing little sex slave? Who do you think you are, Manticore?” He turns his attention back to Ames, voice tight with defiance when he hisses, “When _Hell_ freezes over, how about that?”

Ames scoffs. “‘Rapist?’ You begging for my cock kind of kills the victim card, freak.”

“Only because of whatever drugs you gave me,” 494 shoots back. “And my name’s ‘Alec,’ not ‘freak,’ freak.”

Ames raises an eyebrow. “You’re blaming your fucked-up pheromones on me?”

“I don’t know who else would do it.” 494 kicks the air again. “Sick bastard. You know there are easier ways to get your kicks. Paying a hooker, for example, or hell, you’re a good looking enough guy—for a freaky cultist, anyway—why don’t you—” He cuts off when Ames’s hand clenches around his throat.

“Let’s get one thing clear, freak, I don’t _want_ to be here. If it wasn’t for you and your fucked-up heat cycle or whatever it is, I actually _wouldn’t_ be here. I’ll be going about my normal life, happy and content and you’d be _dead_.”

He releases 494 and backs up, getting off the bed to collect his wildly strewn clothes. 494 swallows, gasping quietly as he tries to get air back in his lungs. Ames is putting on his pants when the freak speaks again. “So why aren’t I?”

Ames glances up, pulling on the zipper of his slacks. “Dead?”

494 apparently doesn’t like the sound of that word because his eyes go flat but he still wants to know the answer so he nods. Ames debates with himself just how much to reveal but, in the end, he figures since he’s going to kill the little nuisance eventually anyway, there’s really no sense in lying. “Because apparently I’d rather fuck you right now.” He grabs his shirt and swings it around his shoulders, shrugging into it as 494 blinks at him from the bed.

“Well that’s honest.” 494 looks hopelessly confused and just a little bit like the lost boy he’s never been. Ames feels his heart skip a beat and he scowls, starting to do up the buttons of his shirt to distract himself.

“No point in being otherwise, is there?” He adjusts his sleeve before turning back to look at 494. Lying naked on the mussed bed with his hands chained above his head, the transgenic looks damn near good enough to eat. Ames half wants to go right back over there and sink his cock back into the boy’s tight ass or maybe, disturbingly enough, burying his tongue in it instead. Ames scowls at the direction his thoughts are going. He doesn’t have time for this bullshit and he’s going to be glad when he finally manages to fuck this obsession out. “Neither one of us actually wants to be here,” Ames says and 494 nods.

“So...”

Ames cocks an eyebrow. “So?”

494 glares at him. “So what’s the plan since we’re being all honest here?”

Ames picks his coat up off the floor, brushing it off. “Isn’t it obvious, freak? There isn’t one.” With that, Ames walks out the door, ignoring the transgenic’s demands for him to come back. He’s busy, damn it. Just because he couldn’t bring himself to kill one particular transgenic—damn fucking pheromones anyway—didn’t mean he had to stop all together.

What an absolute clusterfuck his life was turning into. He wasn’t even out of the building yet and all he could think about was going back and fucking the pretty little transgenic again. God damn it.

* * *

  


Alec strains uselessly against the shackles again, trying to fool himself into believing they’re actually starting to give. He has to eventually give up, though, panting and cursing whoever had installed them. Apparently White wasn’t fucking around.

Except, of course, for the ‘fucking’ part. Alec groans, throwing himself onto his back and banging his head against the mattress. It’d almost be enough to make one cry if the sex wasn’t so damn good. Alec’s not even sure what happened to get him to this point. All he can really remember is scoring a good deal on some cigars for Mole over the phone and then boom, he’d been flat on the pavement, writhing and desperate to fuck. Kind of mortifying, actually. Alec has flashes of hands touching him all over and knowing how desperate he was to get them to touch him some more and then the next thing he knew, Ames White was on top of him and despite his horror, Alec couldn’t stop humping him.

And now he has White’s come leaking out of his ass. Alec squirms uncomfortably. He can still feel it inside him and he knows exactly what it’s doing to the bedsheet that he’s still going to have to lay on. It’s enough to make his skin crawl and yet for some fucked-up reason, he kind of likes it.

It’s just all shot to shit. FUBAR. What the hell was wrong with him anyway? He’s all too aware of how much he enjoyed having White’s dick up his ass and it’s beyond shameful. The only thing Alec can really do is be grateful Manticore had thoroughly prepared him to be fucked by random men—if not necessarily one of his worst enemies—because otherwise, he might have snapped before now.

Alec groans when the thought of Manticore crosses his mind because he can’t help but wonder what the fuck they did to him. It had to be them. There’s nobody else and White was genuinely clueless—not that Alec’s going to fully believe the act, but still. White was right to throw the ‘heat cycle’ comment in his face because going by the evidence that’s exactly what this seems like. Which is absolutely ridiculous because he’s never _had_ a heat cycle before. Being _male_ and all. Alec has a horrible thought and while he knows it’s not true, he still has to glance down to check. “Oh, thank you…” he breathes, seeing that, yes, all of his parts are still attached.

He squirms, testing the shackles again and giving up with a sigh. Apparently he was stuck here until White decided to come back. And fuck him again. Alec scowls at the fact that he’s currently only one step above being a blow-up doll. Yeah, he hadn’t wanted to leave Manticore because, hey, he’d had a sweet deal going, but he had to be admit, he certainly didn’t miss some of their nastier habits—though admittedly habits he hadn’t even found out _were_ nasty until he’d been loosed upon the real world—but right now, it feels like he’s right back in.

The only thing Alec can currently do is hope for a damn rescue and fat chance of that actually happening. The only people in the world who would even remotely care if he disappeared didn’t have a clue where he was at. There were about five people who might give a damn about him and Alec knew that none of them were riding to his rescue. He bites his lip, chewing on it as he thinks. There’s not even anything useable within reaching distance. The only thing he’s got to work with is the hard shackles, a lumpy mattress, a thin sheet and his own naked body and none of those things were looking to be the least bit useful.

To top everything off, Alec’s cold. White had left him chained to a bed naked in what Alec can only assume is an abandoned building and he’s pretty sure that the rotten motherfucker didn’t bother to turn on the heat. It’s just a little bit of discomfort, but it’s another thing on Alec’s long list of complaints at the moment.

Also up there is the fact that—damn it—he’s actually looking forward to White coming back and fucking his brains out. That had to be nine kinds of sick, right there. Alec gives a vengeful jerk to his chains and scoots up to sit beside where they’re hooked into the wall. That right there is the number one reason he’s got to get out of here. Somehow.

He pushes against the cement wall, sighing when it doesn’t give an inch. He even jiggles the hook that the chains are attached to, tries to stretch the links again. Nothing. “Fuck.” Looks like he’s stuck here for the duration. The least the bastard could have done was left him a magazine or something. The only thing Alec has to do at the moment is sleep (which, no thanks, he’s already done enough of that today) or jerk off (again, no thanks, he’s pretty sure his dick is going to start chafing). He leans back against the wall and stares at the door that White had left through just an hour or so ago.

When White comes back, Alec’s going to kill him. He’s not sure how but he’s pretty sure it’s going to happen. He doesn’t care if he has to snap the bastard’s neck with his legs. “This is not how you win friends and influence people!” Alec shouts to the empty room.

The only good news is—wait. No, scratch that. Alec can’t even say that the overwhelming lust searing through his higher functions and freewill is gone because fucking A, it’s back. He squirms as he feels his cock start to harden, trying so hard to ignore its insistent demands. No, he’s _stronger_ than this, damn it. Mind over matter, right? Mind over fucking matter and he’s so fucking hard, he’s just going to scrunch up and die.

Alec curls in on himself, whimpering helplessly and desperately wishing for someone to touch him. It’s not fair. It’s not fair at all.

* * *

When Ames comes back, he’s finds his new pretty little sex toy strung out with need on the bed, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Not that Ames is looking much better—6 hours away, though an abbreviated day for him usually, was just too damn long. He’d already been stripping in the car ride over. 494 turns to stare directly at him, whimpering as he spreads his legs in invitation and begs wordlessly to be fucked by lifting up his hips. It hits Ames right in the gut, knocking the breath out of him and he’s operating on sheer instinct when he strides over and climbs on top of the bed. He’s going to claim this fuckable creature and he’s going to do it now.

494 gasps and arches for him, begging to be touched and Ames isn’t about to deny him. He skims his hands down 494’s sides, running his fingers over smooth, smooth skin. The transgenic whines, his legs falling even wider as if that were possible and Ames can’t help himself. He dives downward, licking at 494’s collarbone and then down to suck on a nipple. The boy still tastes just as sweet as Ames remembers from this morning, his sobs sounding just as nice.

Deciding to put them both out of their misery, Ames hurriedly retrieves the bottle of lube he’d left on the floor earlier and slathers himself up. The both moan when he thrusts in, smooth and easy, and 494’s legs wrap around Ames’s waist in an effort to keep him there. “Fuck yeah…” Ames says, starting to pound away. It feels so fucking nice, he’s pretty sure he’s going to explode. He runs his hands up over 494’s body, watching with no small amount of fascination and desire how the boy just pushes into every touch, like a cat being petted. Wasn’t the X5 series based on cats? It shows.

Abandoning all pretense of dignity—he’s already in bed with a transgenic, he can’t exactly sink much lower—Ames presses his entire body to 494’s, listening to the boy pant and whine with the increased skin contact. 494 retightens his legs and leans up to lick the side of Ames’s face. Ames draws back, startled by the wetness sliding across his cheek but 494 follows him, repeating the motion. Instead of pulling back again, though, Ames just turns his face and catches the boy in an open-mouthed kiss, his own tongue battling 494’s and dominating it. 494 mewls into Ames mouth and he shudders. With a jolt, Ames realizes that the transgenic is coming and he groans, pushing his tongue further into 494’s mouth. 494 welcomes him eagerly if tiredly, swirling his tongue with Ames’s and sucking on it. _Pretty little fucker_ , Ames thinks and comes himself.

He keeps kissing 494 as he orgasms and the contrary transgenic seems content to let him for the moment. He finishes with a small jerk and that’s when 494 finally turns his head. Wanting more of the sweet taste, though, Ames grips the transgenic’s face and brings him back towards Ames, gluing their mouths together again. 494 struggles underneath him, twisting as he tries to kick Ames in the side and Ames finally breaks the liplock to glare. “What’s the problem this time?” he snipes.

494 won’t meet his eyes, staring at a wall instead. “Don’t,” he says.

Ames raises an eyebrow and strokes down 494’s face. “Don’t?”

494 tosses his head, jerking away from Ames hand. “ _Don’t_ ,” he repeats and Ames gets it.

“Oh, so we’re okay with the whole fucking part but we’d rather it would just be anonymous?” 494 still won’t make eye contact and Ames wrenches the transgenic’s head back so he has no choice. “Well, tough shit,” Ames snarls, “because I don’t do anonymous fucks.” He kisses 494 again, forceful and with just enough teeth to get his point across, ignoring how the transgenic fights him. When he breaks again, 494 is glaring up in frustration and, oddly enough, looking close to tears. Fascinated, Ames pauses to stare. He’s not exactly in the habit of keeping company with transgenics—especially the irritating one he’s currently bedding—but he hadn’t thought anything like this would have bothered 494 quite so badly. Not with all of Manticore’s rumored training practices and the fact that 494 was supposed to be something akin to an undercover assassin.

“You’re such a bastard,” 494 hisses and turns away again.

Ames shrugs. Maybe he is. Feeling oddly uncomfortable with the overall mood of the room, Ames pushes himself up off of 494. The transgenic wastes his chance and doesn’t bother to attack Ames like Ames was expecting, just lays there on the bed. Most likely feeling sorry for himself and Ames tries not to think too hard about how that comment bothers him. He turns and heads out of the room, grabbing his pants on the way by.

It’s been two days since the transgenic has had food or water and Ames knows that if he’s going to be keeping the little freak around that is definitely something that he’s going to have to consider. Right now, he knows that 494’s not going to be overly appreciative of Ames bringing him food but he’s just going to have to deal with it. He picks up the few bags of take-out that he’d picked up on his way over and had deliberately left outside due to the possibility—slim though it was—of walking in to a fight with a pissed off transgenic. Ames is sure he could take X5-494 even handicapped by holding food, but it’s not something he’s absolutely dying to test.

494 doesn’t acknowledge Ames when he comes back in but that’s fine because Ames knows that he’ll acknowledge at least the boxes of Sesame Chicken soon enough. The transgenic might be prideful and stubborn but he isn’t stupid. Ames sets the bag on the bed by 494’s head. “Eat,” he orders.

494 stares blankly at the bag before flicking his eyes up to Ames. “How am I supposed to do that?” he asks, hands twitching in their cuffs.

Ames snorts. “You’re restrained not immobilized.” As long as the transgenic didn’t expect too much dignity, he could still feed himself. “Unless you prefer me to feed you?”

494 gives him a sour look and sits up, maneuvering himself close to the wall and the bag as Ames smirks. Apparently the feeding option was off the table, which was almost too bad. 494 fumbles a box of the Chinese out of the bag, opening it and staring hungrily. He glances over at Ames, taking a split second to decide if this is a particularly cruel trick or not before deciding it doesn’t matter and digging in. Ames winces at the not exactly neat table manners but considering he’s got the transgenic chained to a wall, he supposes he doesn’t have much room to talk.

He’s still possessed, though, by the inexplicable urge to touch the transgenic and so he steps closer. 494 eyes him warily but doesn’t stop chowing down, probably used to his food being taken away if he’s too slow, like a dog with its dinner dish. Ames reaches a hand out and strokes it lightly through 494’s hair. It’s longer than it was when he first met him, probably to more effectively hide the bar code now that the general public is aware of what that particular tattoo means. 494 growls and jerks his head away but he doesn’t stop shoveling the food in his face to tell Ames off. And it’s not like he has anywhere he can particularly go. Ames repeats the motion noting with amusement how the transgenic doesn’t bother to protest this time. The boy’s hair is soft beneath his hand and Ames decides he likes how it feels, starting to pet the transgenic like he would the cat whose DNA went into making the freak.

The newly emptied take-out box hits the floor as 494 tosses it over his shoulder and Ames opens his mouth to yell at him for being a slob when he realizes that the transgenic is leaning into his touch and starting to whine in his throat. The delicious scent that Ames recognizes as 494 in lust is filling the room again as well and Ames mouth goes dry. He tightens his hand into a fist, no longer stroking the boy’s hair but gripping it and 494 moans in arousal, submitting completely as Ames tilts his head backward.

God yes.

Ames drops to his knees on the bed—it’s filthy by now and completely ruining his pants but at this point who the fuck cares—and pulls 494 into a kiss. The stubborn little bastard doesn’t fight him in the slightest, just letting him take and God but it’s good. Ames raises a hand to cup the X5’s face, tilting it to the right angle as he chases the taste of chicken and something he's starting to identify as just pure 494.

Ames is cock is trying to valiantly fill and he’s definitely interested but he’s not as young as he used to be—fuck but it irks him to admit that—and all he’s really getting is a light twitch in his pants. Fuck. 494’s still bending sweetly under him though, going willing onto his back with only a little coaxing pressure and Ames is going to go crazy if he doesn’t get the damn transgenic to stop putting off that scent.

He runs his hands down 494’s body, over his chest and vulnerable belly to down between his legs. 494 whimpers and thrusts against Ames’s hand, wordlessly begging again. “Fucking insatiable,” Ames murmurs, breaking away to peer at 494’s gorgeously desperate face. He skims his palm over 494’s cock, watching the boy jerk and shiver with the motion before wrapping his hand completely around it. 494 gasps and, spurred on, Ames starts to move his hand in an all too familiar motion lately, even if it does feel a bit odd from this angle. He swipes his thumb over the head after each upstroke, loving the way 494 moans every time.

Ames slides to lie beside the transgenic as his hand keeps working on 494’s cock. The boy’s perfect lips are open as he pants and as soon as Ames is settled, 494 captures him in a kiss. Ames moans and kisses him back and before long, the boy is shuddering through another orgasm. He coats Ames hand as he spills and Ames grimaces at the odd yet familiar feel of slick come on his skin. He wonders what it tastes like, if the boy tastes like normal or if his spunk would be as inhumanly sweet as the rest of him.

As soon as he thinks the thought, Ames is smacking himself upside the head but he’s already bringing his hand to his mouth. He stops just shy of his lips, staring at his semen-covered hand for a moment before pulling it back away. 494, though, is staring intently at him now and biting his lip, obviously anxious for Ames to go through with the motion. Instead, Ames moves his hand to 494’s mouth, pressing the coated fingers against the transgenic’s plush lips. Keeping eye contact, 494 opens willingly, taking in three of Ames’s fingers at once. Ames groans, watching his hand getting sucked clean and Christ this is nine kinds of wrong but it feels so damn good.

He loves the way that 494’s using his tongue to make sure he gets every last drop, licking his own essence off Ames hand. It makes Ames wonder again how that talented mouth would feel around his cock but for the moment, he’s just content to lay here and let 494 suck.

Except Ames still wants to know…would it taste just as good as the rest of the man?

494 whines when Ames takes his hand away but Ames ignores him, bringing his hand up to his own face to lick the rest of the jizz off his palm. 494 moans, deep and low and guttural, sounding like he just got punched and Ames can’t stop his answering vocalization because damn. Just _damn_.

494 jumps when Ames swipes a finger over the head of his spent cock, wiping off the residual jizz and bringing it up to his mouth. The chains rattle as he desperately yanks on them but from the way he’s staring at Ames, Ames knows it’s not an attempt to escape. It’s an attempt to get closer.

Before Ames can fully think through what he’s doing, he’s getting up to get the key and unlocking 494’s shackles. 494 watches him patiently and as soon as he’s free, he pounces, rolling Ames onto his back. Ames stares up at the beautiful creature on top of him, his hands coming to settle on 494’s slim hips and 494 shudders. “Fuck,” the transgenic whispers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Ames was pretty sure they were on the same page. His own cock's made a full recovery and is anxious to help 494 out with his newest problem. “Pretty little slut,” Ames says and guides 494 back, coaxing him to sit on his cock. He slides in as smooth as ever, 494 still slick from before, and the pretty freak keens as he starts to ride Ames’s dick. “Yeah,” Ames says encouragingly, reaching up to thumb over a pink nipple. 494 shivers at that and lets loose the prettiest little moan so Ames just has to repeat the motion.

Even though he’s come three times since Ames got home, the boy’s dick is flushed red as it sits long and stiff on Ames’s chest, bouncing with each thrust the boy does. 494’s legs are working hard to either side of Ames’s hips, propelling him up and down, fucking himself so nicely. Ames groans, feeling his balls draw in tight. Who knew he’d like the freak taking the lead so much? It’s fucking hot as hell and Ames thinks that they’re definitely going to have to try this one again. A lot.

He’s not going to come alone, either, so Ames fists 494’s cock, his fingers sliding over it familiarly now, quickly re-finding all the little sweet spots he’d discovered before. 494’s eyes open wide as he stares down at Ames and then he’s coming, spurting all over Ames chest. He still keeps rocking though, still keeps fucking himself but all it takes is a few more thrusts and Ames is over the edge too, groaning as he shoots into the boy’s ass.

“Oh, fuck…” Ames swears, his head lolling from the strength of his orgasm. The world seems to be spinning and tilting just slightly off center but damned if he knows how to fix it. Not that he actually cares to, what with his body being so pleasantly content. His dick is sliding free of the wet hot heat of before, though, and Ames is sure as hell going to protest that. “What the fuck…?” He tries to sit up but by the time he manages, 494 is already gone.

Ames’s rational mind snaps back into place and he glances frantically around the room but no, the damn freak’s long gone, no doubt putting all that transgenic speed to good use. “Fuck!” Ames swears, slamming his fist down on the filthy bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” What kind of hormone-driven _moron_ , was he? Unlocking a prisoner like that? He’s losing his goddamned mind! Ames scrubs a hand through his hair, pulling at it just for the bit of pain shooting through his scalp. Christ, he was worse than an incompetent rookie. Matter of fact, he’d actually lost the transgenic that his rookies had managed to catch and just how pathetic is that?

And he’s covered with the freak’s spunk. Ames scrapes a wad of transgenic jizz off his chest, glaring at it distastefully but before he can stop himself, he’s already thrust it into his mouth. His eyes flutter helplessly and he moans because Christ, that shouldn’t taste so good. God, he’s _beyond_ pathetic.

Disgusted at himself, Ames pulls the finger out and shoves himself to his feet. He starts gathering his clothes because he’s got a transgenic to catch and with any luck, people are going to notice the naked teenager streaking through their midst.

* * *

Three days later, Ames is climbing the goddamned wall. 494’d managed to safely evade him and, judging by the latest freak press conference, he’s happily holed back up in Terminal City. He’d been standing there on the TV, right behind X5-452, looking just as delicious as when he’d left Ames. Well plus a few clothes. Otto’s been giving him a few suspicious looks since then but luckily none of the other men even remember the hot piece of ass they’d been panting after earlier in the week.

Ames wishes he was in the same boat. Instead, though, he can still remember _everything_ from the way 494 tastes, to how he feel so hot and tight around Ames cock, even right down to the delicious little noises he makes when he comes. FUCK! He’s no where _near_ the damn freak, certainly not within reach of his freakish pheromones but Ames can still _feel_ him—or at least something like him—itching through his skin. Goddamn it. And it’s only gotten worse as the days have gone by. He feels like a fox caught in a trap though if he were that, Ames knows he would have gnawed off his own leg days ago.

Matter of fact, it’s gotten so damn bad that Ames technically broke a day ago, sending Otto off on a wild goose chase to find him some straggling Manticore geek to possibly _fix_ him. He can’t take anymore of this. He thought he’d be able to fuck his inexplicable obsession out but obviously that had failed and ‘taking a little time’ isn’t doing much better.

It’s in that state of mind that Ames storms into the interrogation room that’s currently holding a scared witless former scientist turned beach bum. Stupid fuck should have flown the country instead of just heading to California. Ames slams the door behind him, locking it because like hell they’re going to be disturbed (and doesn’t THAT just sound awfully familiar), and strides to the middle of the room where the skinny little geek is sitting in his chair shaking like a leaf. Ames glares down at him. “You’ve read the report,” Ames says. It’s not a question. The man swallows and nods, but, like Ames said, it wasn’t a question. “Tell me how to fix it.”

If it’s possible, the man looks even more terrified. Ames needs answers, though, not fear. “Tell me _now_ , Doctor, before I decide to do something…drastic.” Like maybe saw off a leg. That sounded like fun. And it would be so eerily like how Ames is feeling right now. Let’s hear it for sublimation.

“It-it-it—it wasn’t meant to be used,” the man stutters and Ames waits impatiently for him to get on with it, his hand making a circling ‘go on’ motion. “It looked great on paper but it utterly failed in the field test and it was discontinued.”

“ _What_ was discontinued?” Ames demands.

“The drug!” The man points to a particular paper in his lap. “The treatment! It wasn’t safe!”

“Drug for what?”

The doctor swallows and by God, is he _blushing_? “Mating transgenics…” he mumbles.

Ames couldn’t have heard that right. He puts a hand to his ear. “What was that?”

“Mating transgenics!” the scientist blurts out. “We were having a hard time certain specimens to breed so we figured we’d help nature out a little only there were…complications.”

Such as everyone in a five mile radius being affected like a small nuclear-fucking-bomb going off, transgenic or not. “You couldn’t control it.”

“No,” the man says miserably. “We’d give it to one transgenic and suddenly every single one of them would be sniffing after the affected specimen, male or female.”

“Or non-transgenic,” Ames notes sharply and the doctor shrinks in on himself.

“Yes. The affected specimen had to be a transgenic but those it attracted…didn’t.”

Fucking socially outcast freaks. Only a lonely lab tech would ever think to cook up something like this. “So how does it work?” Ames demands. “Better yet, how do I fix it?”

“You _don’t_ ,” the scientist wails, trying to sink into his chair. Ames clenches his jaw, trying so hard to hear the man out but he’s fast losing patience and he might just have to do something. “It’s non-reversible! What it does is attracts a mate and then hooks them for life. It’s what it’s designed to do!”

Ames glowers. This is not sounding like anything he wants to hear. “How does it ‘hook’ them?”

“Through the sexual fluids.” The man sighs and throws out his hands as he decides to start from the beginning. “At first we thought it wasn’t too bad, you know? Because yeah, it made everyone and their mother want a piece of the affected transgenic but all it took was them achieving orgasm once and then it was over! The pheromones were gone, caput! We actually thought it was a failure.” Ames’s brain is cranking along at 80 mph, desperately whirling back the days. Well that certainly explained why Otto and the rest of the men hadn’t been affected anymore after Ames's wild romp with X5-494. But that still left… “Then we found out that apparently they were all released in the first time sexual fluids. And…and whoever touched them, well…it was more like the affected transgenic’s pheromones changed and became more selective and whoever touched the fluids would become a specialized receptacle for them.”

Ames blinked, grimaced, and then glared at the shivering scientist. “So you’re telling me that one of your _freaks_ gave me a STD? That _you_ cooked up?”

The scientist’s eyes widened. “The report didn’t say anything about it being you—”

Fuck. “Because it’s not important!” Ames roars. “Tell me how to fix it!”

“I already said that you can’t!” The man’s vocal range is going up into a supersonic screech in his terror. Fucking _annoying_. “The mates were picked for life and their entire body chemistry _changed_. It changed!”

“And so none of you geeks thought to whip up an antidote?” Ames demands.

“No! Because it was discontinued!”

“Why?”

“Because it was beyond permanent!” the man shouts, waving his arms again. “We only gave it to two females who both chose mates. One died on her next mission and her mate went _berserk_.”

Oh, this just got better and better, didn’t it? “Berserk?” Ames hisses.

“He lost his mind! He had to be terminated because we just couldn’t control him. Millions of dollars down the drain…” The man puts his head in his hands and rocks back and forth like all that lost money is the worst thing that ever came out of this failed experiment. Ames wants to put him through a wall. “We tried to find to a cure to salvage the other two specimens before the same could happen again but everything was unsuccessful.”

“So you ‘terminated’ them as well, did you, Doctor?” ‘Termination’ was definitely not on the table of accepted endings here.

“No,” the doctor moaned. “They tried to escape before we could and the X7s put them down.”

Ames scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m sure you’re aware, Doctor, that death isn’t an option in this case?”

“There’s no other cure,” the man whispers and Ames leans down to make his next words crystal clear.

“Doctor, I might not be able to kill you, but I assure you there are worse things I can do. You might need that fine brain of yours, but don’t need both your legs, do you?” The man sobs but Ames isn’t swayed towards sympathy in the slightest, smacking him lightly in the face to stop the heavier blubbering. “Now tell me some better news.”

“In a few months you’ll be past the infatuation stage?” the man tries.

Ames glowers. “What the fuck does that mean?”

The scientist wipes his nose on his sleeve. “It, uh, means you’ll be able to separate for longer periods of time without feeling like you’re missing half your body.”

Ames chews on that little bit of information for awhile, tossing it around in his head. So maybe if he could just last out these few months, he could have something resembling his normal life back. He’d have to re-secure X5-494, of course, because one, there was no possible way Ames was actually going to last that long without banging the irresistible bastard in the meantime and two, he didn’t want to think of the consequences if the freak were to up and die on him.

Except the doctor’s continuing on. “Just for a few hours at a time,” he mumbles, “and you’ll…” he stops himself from finishing, biting his lip and looking very sorry he’d opened his mouth again.

Ames isn’t letting him get away with it, however. “I’ll what?” he asks sharply.

“You’ll, uh, start identifying with the transgenic more. It’s, uh, moods and feelings and well, being its mate.”

That sounded suspicious like… “Are you saying I’m going to fall in love with the damn freak?” he snaps.

The doctor shrinks even more in on himself. “Kind of? The chemical equivalent?”

Ames doesn’t consider himself to blame for the fact that he shoots the man. Though Otto certainly tries to chew him out, not that Ames is listening. He’s too busy plotting how the fuck he’s going to kidnap his ‘new bride’ out from under X5-452’s thumb.

* * *

It takes Ames about two weeks to the day after that to cave and admit defeat. 494, a known transgenic vagabond if there ever was one, seems to be unusually content to just sit tight in Terminal City so Ames hasn’t had a chance to catch him on the outside. All of his schemes, as well, have fallen through, the army absolutely refusing to move in and just take over the damn place so Ames is left with no other option. The Conclave is breathing down his neck as well to just wrap this whole thing up already and he knows he’s only one misstep away from being assassinated. To make matters worse, though, Otto turned against him and now he’s officially an enemy of the NSA. Son of a bitch. Ames should have shot the bastard back when he had the chance.

To be fair, it wasn’t all Otto’s fault. He’d be caught with his hand in the cookie jar as well and it was either squeal or get sent to prison for life himself. So he’d done the exact same thing Ames would have done and Ames, if he’s honest with himself, is actually kind of proud. He’s made a mental note to bust Otto out of the low-security prison they’re currently holding him in until they manage to catch Ames. Ames is never actually going to let the inept NSA catch him, so there’s a strong possibility that Otto could be in there for a very long time.

Oh yeah, did he mention how because of the whole NSA debacle, the Conclave wants him up for “re-evaluation”? And Ames knows exactly what his chances are with that.

The only good thing the past two weeks have brought him is the body of the renegade scientist that he’s sure is responsible for originally infected 494. The man had apparently had no clue what he’d done, as he’d not been one of the original scientists to develop the drug. No, the dumb fuck had just found it and decided to test it out. He was now outside Seattle in a rather shallow grave. Ames certainly hoped he liked it.

So really, he’s got nothing left to lose when he captures a rogue freak on his own and uses it as a bargaining chip to get Eyes Only to patch him into Terminal City on the down low. Well, as much on the down low as possible. Eyes Only, of course, isn’t stupid, so Ames is sitting alone in a room with some equipment having never even seen the guy. It doesn’t matter, though, because for Ames, Eyes Only is not a priority any more. He’s so far off the priority scale, he’s not even a blip on Ames’s personal radar. Merely just a means to an end.

Ames knows that he looks like shit. He hasn’t slept since X5-494 escaped no matter how hard he’s tried to pretend otherwise. He’s done nothing but fucking _pine_ and he just can’t take it anymore. He’d be climbing the gates to Terminal City right now if he’d think it would get him anything but shot.

So he’s sitting in the room, impatiently waiting for X5-452 to decide she’s okay with Ames talking to 494 like her opinion might actually be worth a shit. She’s given him the whole tenth degree, drilling him relentlessly on why he might want to talk to 494, or ‘Alec’ as she insists that he call him. Throughout the entire conversation, Ames’s tried so hard to be patient, to not yell at her to get her bitchy but oh so lovely ass off his screen and put on the one he was calling for because he knows that’s not going to get him anywhere but shut down.

When she finally relents, though, and 494—Alec—slides into view, Ames can kind of understand why she was wearing him down. The boy looks like Hell warmed over. His skin is sallow and his hair is in sweaty chunks. His pretty green eyes are sunken into the his face and just look haunted. Ames feels his heart start to break and hates himself for it even though he can’t help it. “Christ…” he breathes.

“You bastard…” 494 slurs. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“Have you been eating?” Ames demands, ignoring the question.

“No,” the transgenic replies simply.

“494—”

“Alec,” 494 cuts in.

Ames sighs and rolls his eyes but God, whatever. “Alec,” he says and promptly ignores how much he seems to like how the name sounds on his tongue.

“What did you do to me?” Alec repeats.

Ames wrestles with all the different ways he could answer that question before he decides to just go with the approach he knows best—blunt and to the point. “We’re apparently now life-partners. Congratulations, honey,” he says sarcastically.

“Very funny. I’m sure your career as a comedian will take off just as soon as find a different sense of humor, you sick fuck.”

“No, actually,” Ames says, staring at the screen. “I was being serious.” Alec’s jaw drops open to protest but Ames continues right along. “Found an ex-Manticore scientist to scrutinize me from every angle possible and he filled me in on a little known experiment.”

“Which was?” Alec rasps.

“Artificially creating relationships between transgenics.”

Alec looks confused, pouting out his lower lip in a way that makes Ames want to kiss him through the screen. Christ. “You’re not a transgenic.”

“Yeah,” Ames deadpans. “Which would be one of the many reasons the experiment was discontinued.”

Alec swallows and closes his eyes. “Great. So what do we do from here?”

“From here, you get your scrawny ass out of the gated shanty town you’re calling home and crawl out here so I can fuck you properly,” Ames growls and Alec’s eyes pop open.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Ames says. “We fuck like bunnies; that’s the plan.”

“That’s not a plan!”

“Well, I don’t have a better one.”

Alec glares at him for his honesty. “Where’s the scientist who told you all this?” he asks suspiciously.

“In a cell somewhere at NSA headquarters with a bullet in his shoulder. I didn’t like what his answers.” Ames shrugs. At least he hadn’t killed the bastard. Yet.

Alec rolls his eyes, looking a bit like his former self. He licks his lips, making Ames groan in sheer want. “How about you come to Terminal City?” he counters.

“And have your fellow freaks kill me? How about not?” No fucking way was he setting foot inside Freakland. Ames’s life may be currently circling the drain but he isn’t exactly ready to flush just yet.

“Then we’re at an impasse,” Alec snaps, looking frustrated. Ames is struck by the ridiculous urge to apologize. Maybe send flowers. Fuck.

Ames firmly squashes all the inane little suggestions the less rational part of his brain is offering. “You’ve seen the news,” Ames says bluntly.

Alec blinks. “Yeah?”

“Then you know I’m wanted by the NSA and I’m about to skip town. How about we runaway together like a trite little cliché?”

“So you can hand me over to your cult buddies?” Alec sneers. “How about no?”

Ames sneers right back. “I’ve been fucking a transgenic. How welcome do you think I am with them?”

“Oh,” Alec says, right back to blinking adorably. He’s also biting his lip again and _God_ Ames wants to fuck him.

“Stop it,” Ames growls and Alec looks confused. “The lip biting thing,” Ames admits. “It’s driving me nuts.” Ames heart shouldn’t be skipping a beat at Alec’s smiles either but whatever. “Listen, I’m leaving town tonight. I’m going to stop for one night at the address I’m going to leave with your Eyes Only friend here and I’d…really…appreciate you being there.” Really appreciate. “But I’ve got to go now.” Not that he particularly wants to. Now that he has his eyes on Alec again, he really doesn’t want to go anywhere but the fact remains that Ames has got unfinished business to take care of in Seattle before he can leave.

Alec nods and then they’re disconnected. Ames stares at the blank screen for a long minute before swearing and stomping out of the room. If Alec doesn’t show up tonight, Ames is just going to have to shoot himself.

* * *

It’s more than a little sad that Ames has staged the hotel room to look like some cheesy scene out of a horrible bodice ripper. He doesn’t know exactly what he was thinking except that it kept him busy to do so. And frankly, the maids just loved the shit out of it, no doubt making up tawdry make-believe romances stories to go along with the romantic sap in room 214.

It’s a fairly nice room, not cheap, with a Jacuzzi in the corner filled with fucking rose petals. Yes, rose petals and that had definitely been the maids—the shortest one, matter of fact—because Ames knows that he wouldn’t have gone that far. He did, however, dim the lights and set up the vases of flowers. Ames isn't questioning the flowers (which the maids assured him look very nice) because even though he doesn't know exactly where the urge came from he does know he couldn't exactly ignore it. There’s also a bottle of wine chilling in an ice bucket that Ames has been staring at it for over three hours now. He’s pretty sure the damn thing is room temperature by now and the ice is probably melted but he can’t bring himself to care.

He’s sitting on the bed, his elbows on his knees and he’s waiting. Goddamn it but he’s waiting. He actually has no fucking clue if 49—Alec will show up because frankly, Ames has never given the transgenic a reason to trust him. At all. He just knows that he might not be sane for too much longer if Alec doesn’t show up. This whole ‘changed chemistry’ thing was positively fucked.

Ames certainly hadn’t asked to pine after another person like a thirteen year old girl. He certainly hadn’t wanted it. But yet here he was, his every breath waiting on a knock at the door—

Ames leaps up when he hears the knock and it better not be the goddamned manager this time. He rips open the door and his knees out and out buckle with the pure pheromone that washes off him, cinnamon and chocolate and just enough to send him for a loop. His knees hit the floor and he’s now level with Alec’s crotch with works just fine for Ames. He grabs the transgenic around the waist, hauling him forward so Ames can bury his nose in Alec’s jeans. He mouths along the lengthening bulge filling out at the zipper and above him Alec whimpers a “Oh fuck…”

Yeah, that’s about right. Ames squeezes Alec’s ass as his mouth turns rougher, more desperate. He’s trying to convince himself to let go of Alec’s fine rear end when Alec grabs his hair, hauling him away. Ames growls but Alec cuts in with a “We’re in the hallway…” which finally helps Ames realize that he’s missed a crucial step in the process.

He surges to his feet and drags Alec forward, slamming the transgenic against the wall to kiss him hungry while he fumbles blindly for the door. Alec helps him out and together they slam it shut. “God, yeah,” Ames mutters, burying his hands into Alec’s hair. “Your perfect fucking lips. Christ…” He keeps kissing the X5 until the boy fairly melts against the wall in surrender. That’s even better.

The boy is looking better than he did on Eyes Only’s screen but Ames still wants to wrap him up in a cocoon for a few weeks, letting him do nothing but eat and fuck. Maybe he’ll get that wish soon enough.

Ames runs his hands down Alec’s chest, reaching for the hem of his T-shirt so he can get his greedy fingertips on the smooth skin he’s been dreaming about for weeks. At the first touch of skin on skin under Alec’s clothes, they both moan and the next thing Ames knows, he’s being shoved towards the bed.

He can live with that.

Alec pushes Ames down onto the bed with a hard shove before shucking his jacket and shirt and joining him, climbing up on top. “Oh fuck yeah,” Ames moans, skimming his hands down Alec’s back. “Love you on top…” It’s out of his mouth without him even being aware of it and of course the transgenic picks up on it.

Alec quirks eyebrow, a slow smile cracking his lips. “Yeah?” he says. “I love being up here…” He kisses Ames hard and fast as he unbuttons Ames shirt. He gets impatient about halfway through, though, and ends up just ripping it open, buttons flying everywhere. Ames can’t even pretend he cares though, because he knows he should have worn a different shirt. He knows. He reaches for his own belt, undoing it quick and unzipping his slacks while Alec kisses and licks his way down Ames chest.

As Alec nears Ames groin, though, Ames shudders. Alec shoots him a positively evil grin and tugs down the band of Ames underwear, licking underneath. Ames can’t stop his hips from surging upwards or his moan because that’s all the motivation Alec needs to finish tugging down Ames pants and sucking his dick into that sinfully wonderful mouth.

It’s as good as Ames thought it would be, all wet heat and talented tongue working along his length and he spreads his legs as much as he able while his hands come up to cover his face. “Christ…” he murmurs as Alec swirls his tongue over the head of Ames’s dick.

Alec gives him a final suck and then lets Ames’s wet dick go to slap against stomach. “Not Christ,” Alec says with a grin as he shucks off his own pants, “Alec.”

“Alec,” Ames repeats, just to see that smile brighten a little more. Alec climbs back on top of Ames, straddling his hips and Ames tries to thrust up against him.

“Uh uh,” Alec chides teasingly. “I’m on top, remember.”

“Not for long if you don’t hurry up,” Ames grits out because God, he’s dying here. It’s just about all he can do not to roll the infuriatingly sexy transgenic and fuck in to him.

Alec’s smirk is all sly knowingness. “Where’s the lube?” he asks, already just assuming that Ames would have some on hand. Which of course he does, but still.

“Nightstand,” Ames says with a jerk of his head, indicating the piece of furniture to the right of the bed. He’d wanted to leave it out for easy access but not only did that seem kind of tacky it was also a bit presumptuous—a thought that might have disturbed him in another life. He stares up at the ceiling, waiting.

Alec leans over and Ames hears the drawer of the nightstand opening then the click of the lube being popped open. Finally, he’s greeted by the wet slick sound of Alec playing with the lube and he groans impatiently. “I’m going to lose it before I even get it in you,” he complains.

“Some of us like to be prepared, jackass,” Alec shoots back and Ames finally glances up at him. Somebody must have sucker punched him again because suddenly he can’t catch his breath. Alec is still straddling Ames but his own fingers are burying in his ass, pumping in and out while he stretches himself. Ames licks his lips and stares and Alec rolls his eyes. “Oh, sure, _now_ you like it…” But none of his words have any heat in them and after he says them, he pulls out of himself and grabs Ames’s dick with his lubed hand. Ames is willing to forgive a lot of things with that touch.

Then Alec’s positioning Ames cock and sliding down just as sweetly as he did so many weeks ago and Ames is busy just trying to relearn how to breathe. “Oh fuuuuck…” he hisses “Fuck yes…”

Alec’s hands come to rest against Ames chest as he starts to pump himself up and down, thighs straining to either side of Ames. He’s biting his bottom lip again, choking back the sweetest sounds and Ames rocks his hips unwilling and unable to stay still. His own hands come to rest on Alec’s waist, holding the boy steady as he works but that only lasts until Alec gives up on holding back his noise. Once he starts in on the little gasping mewls that Ames loves so much, Ames moves a hand to grip Alec’s cock, stroking his firmly and drawing out more broken cries. “Fucking gorgeous little slut,” Ames says, unrepentant fondness coloring his tone as he eyes the boy straining above him.

Alec shudders and comes with a moan, doubling over as he spills onto Ames chest. Ames groans and milks Alec’s cock with a few hard pulls until Alec whines and reaches down to stop his hand. Letting go of Alec’s oversensitized cock, he moves his hands back to gripping the boy’s hips, holding him still while he thrusts into him. Alec’s still shuddering around Ames and it isn’t long before Ames is coming too, his eyes rolling back into head with the sensation because it’s been too damn long.

Alec collapses on top of Ames and Ames lets him. The boy’s as warm as a damn blast furnace but Ames really doesn’t care. All he can really think about is how nice Alec feels against him and just how damn delicious he still smells.

* * *

Epilogue:

The apartment really isn’t much to look at. It’s more of just a hole in the wall than an actual place to live but that’s fine because Ames really has no plans on actually living in it. It’s just a really convenient place to fuck his lover while they wait for one of the Grand Poobahs of the Conclave to make his appearance sometime within the next week. This will be their third hit and only two more to go after him. Otto's already waiting at the next location. Good man. Ames is glad he didn't end up shooting him.

Alec, though, Alec is absolutely on fire tonight. The boy is arching, straining and struggling against Ames’s hold all in a mock fight, just tensing to see how well Ames can pin him and loving it. Ames, too, loves the playful battle, loves how Alec writhes underneath him. He pins Alec’s wrists to the bed and sucks on a sensitive nipple, drawing out all kind of sweet sounds from the transgenic. Eventually he moves down to settle his mouth between Alec’s legs, licking into him and feeling him shudder.

The insanity-inspiring ‘need-you-now’ feeling might have—thankfully—eased a few months ago but that doesn’t mean that Ames doesn’t love making Alec come. He likes making the transgenic squirm and moan and beg. There’s still times, though, usually when it’s been awhile for both of them, that just being in the same room as Alec will drop Ames to his knees because of the extra dosage of pheromones overwhelming the air. Those days, it’s really just better to stay inside and fuck all day.

He loves, though, that he doesn’t have to hold back with Alec, doesn’t have to be afraid of hurting him and that the only reason he needs to ever really watch himself is just to spare the furniture. It’s definitely better than a kick in the head.

And yeah, while he’s not done a complete 180 from the person he used to be, he’s still fighting back against everything he once believed in. Everything he was raised to believe in. He can’t, however, quite manage to regret it. Not when it means he gets to have Alec fighting by his side and no possible future orders to kill him.

He still likes intimidating the shit out of people and he still has a nasty temper—which leads to some absolutely rip-roaring fights and later rough make-up sex between him and the cocky transgenic. It makes him glad, though, that at least he’s bonded to Alec who maybe incredibly irritating at times but who still kind of likes Ames being the kind of man he is. "So I don't get bored," Alec says. As opposed to 45—MAX—who doesn't consider Ames nearly reformed enough for her tastes. She's not overly appreciative, either, when he counters her disappointment by pointing out that he's fucking Alec and not her. Women can be just so touchy at times.

There's still the fact though that Ames can’t get rid of the urge to bring home flowers at random times. Luckily, Alec thinks it's hilarious and Ames just kind of shrugs it off as being one of his things. With Alec, however, he's found that a particularly good piece of chocolate will accomplish about the same end.

Either way, he gets laid and, really, who can complain about that?


End file.
